With the Current of the Years
by Anysia
Summary: Post 'Frozen Fever,' Kristoff reflects on Anna, life, and the future. [SPOILERS for 'Frozen Fever'. Kristanna, one-shot.]


**A/N: Just a bit of post-FF Kristanna sweetness.**

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**"With the Current of the Years"**

The courtyard is awash in the pink-red-gold of a dying summer sunset, delighted chatter and soft but lively music drifting up over the fjord, over wood and stone and winding through the halls of the castle.

Kristoff's never been much for parties, truth be told. He's familiar enough with them, of course — the trolls are loud and boisterous and so dearly love to celebrate even the most innocuous occasions, and he'd spent more than a few childhood birthdays draped in moss, awkwardly glancing over and around the crown of twigs that slipped down along his brow, while the trolls laughed and sang and danced and generally carried on very, _very_ loudly.

Kristoff is more one for quiet, himself.

And so when Anna had slipped away from the party, eyes soft with worry as she led a visibly-ill Elsa towards the castle, Kristoff had made his way towards the curving wooden trail of the docks, glancing out to the mountains, towards the soft, hazy horizon far off in the distance.

The waves lap gently at the dock, the call of a seabird twining with the sounds of the party still in full swing some distance behind him.

Kristoff's eyes are distant, his arms crossed tight and protective across his broad chest, and in his mind he can only hear the words, over and over and over.

_"I love you." _

_"I love you." _

_"I love you." _

His lips, his tongue, his voice.

Her eyes, her intake of breath, her hands clutched tight to her heart.

But no voice.

Just the brightness of song around them, tiny snowmen under foot, fine line between chaos and hullabaloo quite firmly dashed as the party continued, strengthened, moved.

Kristoff swallows hard, fingertips pressed tightly to his ribcage as he stares out to the sea.

It's not the first time he's said the words.

But he's quite certain it's the first time she's heard him say them.

They've fallen from his lips before, but in quiet whispers that stir the unbound fall of her hair as she snores against his shoulder in the library, cradled in his arms, a half-finished game of chess laid out and forgotten before them.

Fallen in hushed breaths and deafening heartbeats as she smiles, kisses his cheek, and leads him around the dancefloor in an awkward but steady waltz at formal functions, when she glances away just long enough and the music is just loud enough that the words fall from his lips and are safely carried away.

But this…

There were no sleepy whispers, no soft brush of her cheek, no hesitation.

Full voice, head thrown back, screamed to the heavens and bled out with everything he felt, had, was.

_"I love you." _

Kristoff tips his head back, looks to the curling crimson light of the fading sunset.

He'd been embarrassed, when it had dawned on him, when Anna's eyes had widened and she'd stared and _stared… _

But he'd meant it.

Means it.

Knows, somehow, down to his bones, that he always will.

But, he thinks, closes his eyes, sees the sun still dance behind them, wild red-bright, draped in sunflowers and a beautiful smile…

…will she?

…does she?

There's bright laughter behind him, in the courtyard. High-pitched and sweet, untroubled, innocent.

Children's laughter.

Kristoff thinks, briefly, of Anna's eyes, flashing-bright and smiling as she holds a chubby baby in her arms, and there's something hot and tight and painful in his chest as he imagines taking them both into his arms…

His son.

His wife.

_"I love you." _

_"I do…" _

"…hey, you."

Kristoff starts, half-turns and stumbles to see Anna smiling shyly at him just a few feet away, rocking back on her heels, biting her lip and glancing up at him through her eyelashes. "Needed some air?" she asks, and there's a lightness to her tone, an easiness, and Kristoff wonders at it even as he shrugs in an attempt at nonchalance.

"…did you have a nice birthday?" he asks, glancing at her (like the sun, bright and perfect and somehow so very, very far away…).

Anna's eyes brighten, and she nods quickly. "I just…" she starts, flinging her arms out. "It's been _amazing_. I mean, okay, Elsa getting sick wasn't amazing… poor thing, she worked _so hard_ at everything but… oh, Kristoff, it's so _wonderful_ having her back." Anna's smile softens, turns wistful, and Kristoff can't help but return it. "…I missed my sister so much, Kristoff. So much."

"She loves you, Anna," Kristoff hears himself say, and Anna's smile widens, flashing bright as she slowly reaches to take his hand.

"I guess she's not the only one," Anna says, her voice light and mischievous as she gently twines her fingers with his. "I mean, obviously not the same way or anything because _ew_ no what would that even _be_ but…" Her smile widens as she leans up on tiptoe, draws closer, tilts her head and stares at him. "I think that's the first time I've ever actually heard you say that. Where you knew you were doing it, I mean. Where you wanted me to hear it."

Kristoff's eyes widen as Anna leans closer, takes his free hand in hers as well and holds them both, easy and practiced, so small but so very, very strong, until her words finally register.

"…wait," he manages, staring at her. "So it's… you… knew you? I mean, you knew? Wait, what?"

His thoughts stop as he feels the gentle brush of Anna's lips along his cheek, feels the familiar curve of her smile.

"I knew," her hears her say, voice as soft and warm as her hands, her heart, and he leans into her touch without even realizing. "I always knew."

Anna pulls back, just a fraction, just enough to smirk at him. "And besides," she says, "I'm _real_ good at pretending to be asleep, you know."

Kristoff is fairly certain his eyes can't get any wider, but somehow they drift closed as Anna launches herself upwards, throws her arms over his shoulders and kisses him with a delighted laugh that fades into a soft noise of contentment.

Kristoff's arms come around her waist of his own accord, holding her close and bearing her weight as he tilts his head, deepens and presses and touches, her lips warm and soft against his, somehow so familiar and yet thrilling and new all at once, every time.

"Hey," Anna says quietly, brushing her nose with his and grinning down at him.

"Hm?" he murmurs.

A breath, a pause, a flash and a smirk.

Then:

"I love you, baby," Anna says, leaning against his shoulders and gently stroking his hair, and he's sure she can feel the rapid pulse of his heartbeat, can feel his breath shorten.

"…really?" Kristoff asks dumbly, and it's so stupid and foolish he wants to smack himself, but that would require letting go of Anna.

And until or unless she asks that of him, Kristoff knows, he will not, cannot do so.

"Really really," Anna responds, pressing her cheek to his and smiling at him.

And Kristoff can't help it, can't help the smile that fairly bursts across his face, can't help delightedly raising Anna up higher and spinning her around, can't help his euphoric laugher, the way it rises up high, high, high, with hers, with the children's, towards the sea and sun, as they continue, awkward and fumbling but together, always together, towards the next year, the next rising sun.


End file.
